Sydney Harbour Marriott review (with a happy ending)
So some of you may remember my man and I were having some, erm, issues; namely the fact that he is still married to someone else.
It’s not as bad as it sounds (he’s separated) but after many wines and many tears, it can be confusing. I thought we’d broken up. He thought we were having an inconsequential bitch fight. Men and women, right? Speaking different languages. It doesn’t help that he’s a numbers guy and I’m a words girl. The potential for misunderstanding is 10 to the power of lexicon.
We rocked up to drinks with the glamorous team and were treated to an array of tasty bar snacks and liquor-ish libations. We got tipsy. Or possibly slightly drunk after we downed the Veuve Clicquot in our room (we were tired) but by the time we went to bed, we didn’t hate each other quite so much.
Friday morning came around and I woke up at dawn and took this photo. Often hotels make outrageous claims about the view but Sydney Harbour Marriott isn’t kidding about the Opera View thing. You can see the Opera House, the harbour, the sunrise; it’s pretty special, even for a jaded old hack like me.
We hit the breakfast buffet only to discover that they do everything. Fresh waffles, congee, eggs every which way; the brekkie changes daily so you don’t get bored and there’s plenty for Asian guests who aren’t into Western stuff. Mind you, I did notice that Marriott is overrun with Americans which made me very happy as I adore them and their jeans-and-white-sneaker-wearing Jerry Seinfeld ways.
Dinnertime swung around after a full day of worky work work so it was with some gusto that we approached the seafood buffet. Now, let me be clear – buffets scare me. I am a guts and buffets flick some psychotic switch in my brain that makes me overeat to the point of near death. Fortunately there is something about the way the Marriott present their buffet that stifled my inner insanity to a socially appropriate level. We even got the VIP lobster where you get to choose from mornay sauce or garlic butter.
Clearly it’s been a while since I’ve had a boyfriend because I drenched my lobster in garlic butter and enjoyed every last stinky, fat smeared morsel.
Saturday rolled around but we barely noticed. Our room was so dark and quiet, we felt like Tibetan monks in a cave; albeit a very warm, cosy, comfy cave.
It wasn’t until well after midday that hunger forced us from our cocoon and out into the cruel sunlight. We wandered down to The Rocks, via B-Dawgs’ favourite watch shop, and wound up at The Fine Food Store, a cute little café that’s all bunting, activated almonds and vanilla pannacotta milkshakes.
I dragged B-Dawgs up to The Baxter Inn (after all the usual Googling – it’s still so hard to find) and then we retired to our boudoir for the rugby. Yes, it must be love. I watched rugby and I didn’t hate it.
And then we went to Mr Wong, just a quick hop down the street, for some fancy pants Chinese in a very NYC setting. More wine but no more tears.
And then came Sunday. As the sun rose after three days of blissful, 1000-thread count retreat, the love was back in full force.
Sydney Harbour Marriott is located at 30 Pitt St, Sydney in the heart of Circular Quay and is in easy walking distance to The Rocks, the CBD and the botanic gardens. The hotel has been recently refurbished and has some of the friendliest damn staff I have ever come across. Five star by name and five star by nature.